Run for Covers

Laura reached forward and turned the recorder off. She looked so serious that Tori’s reporter’s instincts went wild.

“If you want to discuss Dale,” she said, “it’ll have to be off the record. And I would like to know why you’re interested in my personal life. You’re covering the grand opening.”

“But my slant is you, and what you’re doing here. Tyler can go mainstream with his documentary, but I need to appeal to my readers. There’s a local angle here that’ll launch my story into the major leagues. I won’t pass it up.”

“Our family history.”

“The Fords and the Grangers together for the first time since Westfalls. Not to mention a romance resort in town that our conservative grandfather has been curiously silent about.”

“He’s not our grandfather. He might technically be my mother’s father, but I’ve never met the man. As far as your grandfather’s concerned, I don’t exist.”

Tori considered that for a moment to decide on her line of questioning. The history between their families was as much a draw around here as erotic artist Mireille Marceaux was a mystery. Their family connection was another card in her hand that she could play to make her coverage something special, and since she intended to capitalize on this local angle, it wouldn’t hurt to get Laura’s read on the whole deal.

“I don’t think that’s entirely true,” she said. “Our grandfather has acknowledged you.”

“How?”

“By his silence.”

Laura narrowed her crystal blue gaze. “The senator hasn’t been silent. He made a statement a long time ago.”

Tori shook her head. “The senator talked around you. He spouted stuff about supporting values of traditional couples and businesses that bring tourist dollars into our local economy. But that’s not endorsing a romance resort. He didn’t criticize it, either, and people noticed. I’m the municipal reporter in this town. I hear the gossip on my beat.”

“The senator didn’t attend Miranda’s wedding,” Laura pointed out. “I assumed that meant he didn’t want people to mistakenly think he was in contact with a Granger.”

“Grandfather didn’t attend Miranda’s wedding because the Senate got called into special session. He’d planned to come.”

Laura set her cup on the table and sat back in her chair, looking disbelieving. “Are you saying you think my involvement here might have something to do with him not taking a stand against the inn?”

“I think it’s possible. Think about it, Laura. You might be spinning sex from the romance angle, but you’re still spinning sex. There’s a reason he’s handling this inn the way he is, and I think you’re it.”

Tori didn’t give her a chance to think about the implications of that statement. She’d planted the seed and that was enough for now. Hopefully, the seed would take root, and Laura would want to talk some more about their family history. Until then, though, Tori had an opportunity to steer the conversation in another direction.

“So tell me, if your date is pulling permits to open an office in town, do I assume that means Falling Inn Bed has worked its magic on you and Dale Emerson?”

Laura’s careful expression melted away, and she got a soft look in her eyes. “Dale says the magic’s contagious, and no one who walks through our doors is exempt. Not our featured bridal couple. Not even the bedding consultant or the man who built the Wedding Wing.”

“Contagious, hm? Now that’s a theory I haven’t heard about.”

But it was one that had promise. Tori could use all the help she could get in her quest to get Adam to enjoy the grand opening celebration. And when Laura waxed poetic about marriage proposals on construction sites and falling in love with her handsome architect, Tori thought she might just stand a chance at helping the hunky assistant GM catch some magic.

ADAM HADN’T STOPPED running since he’d opened his eyes this morning, though Laura had left Sunday a free day in their Naughty Nuptials schedule to give their newlyweds a chance to rest after the excitement of the wedding day. Guests had been checking out all morning, while the inn staff had been regrouping for the week of Risqué Receptions events ahead.

Adam had been looking forward to working out and a break from Tori Ford, but instead had found himself cleverly roped into giving her a tour of the hotel when he caught up with her midmorning at Bruno’s place.

In the time since he’d last seen her, Adam had mentally reviewed all the reasons why he didn’t want to involve himself with a woman who believed in fun for fun’s sake, no matter how much his body urged him otherwise. He believed this little exercise had done the trick.

That was, of course, until he’d set eyes on her in a sundress that left her shoulders bare and too much cleavage swelling above the bodice. With red waves bouncing down her back as she moved past the hostess station, Adam had to admit that discipline wasn’t holding up in the face of the woman herself. Not when she caught sight of him, and her expression lit up. His pulse took a huge leap in tempo.

Steeling his spine, he forced a smile and asked, “How did your interview with Laura go?”

Slipping her arm through his, she moved close enough to accelerate his pulse a few more beats. “Great, thanks, but I’m stuffed. Remind me to stay out of this restaurant, or your chef will do some serious damage. I don’t want to have to go shopping for bigger sized clothes.”

Adam raked his gaze over her slim curves before he could stop himself and gave a short laugh. Nothing but perfection there. “Never fear, Ms. Ford. The spa’s cardiovascular schedule runs seven days a week.”

“Great minds and all that, Adam.” She tipped her head back to smile up at him and heaved a giant sigh that did amazing things to that swell of cleavage. “I’ll bet we could burn off lots of calories together.”

“Shall we go on a tour? Laura told me she took you through the Wedding Wing, but you haven’t seen the main hotel yet. I’ll be happy to show you.”

She pursed her lips in an exasperated moue, and he was pleased to sidestep at least one indecent proposal today.

“Thank you,” she said.

He directed her out onto the promenade. “I’m actually surprised Laura didn’t tour you around the whole property when you first arrived.”

“Oh, she offered, but I only let her show me the Wedding Wing. That’s her cupcake, after all.” Tori’s big blue eyes sparkled. “But I’m dying to see the original hotel, though. My sister and her husband stayed in the Roman Bagnio on their wedding night and to hear Troy tell it, he’d have enjoyed spending a few more nights there before flying off to Hawaii for their honeymoon. Think you can arrange to tour me through any of the inn’s original suites?”

Sure he could, but did he really want to be alone with her in suites with names like the Victorian Bordello, Sultan’s Seraglio and Demimondaine’s Boudoir?

No, yet he couldn’t help but be impressed at how neatly she twisted the situation around to corner him. Strategy he could respect, even when it meant postponing his workout even longer.

The woman was clever, he’d definitely give her that.

“I haven’t reviewed the audit reports yet, Ms. Ford, but we ran close to full occupancy last night. Seeing a suite might not be possible.”

“Today’s Sunday, and checkout was at noon. Surely some guests will have left by now. Can’t you slip me in for a peek?”

“Housekeeping’s scheduled after checkout.”

With her arm still locked through his, she tugged him around so they were headed back in the direction of the front desk. “Just check, please. For me.”

No wheedling, yet even so, Adam marveled at the way she managed to turn everything back around to what she wanted.

To be alone with him.

“I’ll check.” If only for a moment to put some distance between them and regain control of his pulse.

A trip behind the front desk almost did the trick until he found two suites recently vacated—the Red Light District and the Wild West Brothel. He considered claiming that none were available, but Adam wouldn’t lie—not even to spare himself a visit with this woman to the Red Light District, complete with spotlight, stage and chair suitable for a sexy lap dance.

“We’ll tour the Wild West Brothel.”

With any luck, the historically themed furnishings would distract this woman from the overt sexuality of the suite.

Then again, Adam wouldn’t get his hopes up. Not when Tori beamed at him across the counter and said, “Ride ’em, cowboy,” then led him up to the fifth floor herself.

“You’re familiar with the layout of the inn, I see,” he said dryly when she brought him right to the door with the appropriate shiny gold nameplate.

She gave a casual shrug that drew his gaze yet again to the red waves spilling over her shoulders and the delicate curve of her throat. “Wouldn’t be much of a reporter if I couldn’t find my way around without help.”